Recriminations
by Razzmatazzy
Summary: Cloti one-shot, post AC. Cloud gets home from a job; everything seems fine. But when Tifa goes missing in the wastes between Kalm and Edge, he must rush to her rescue... if he isn't already too late, yet again.


****_(Author's Note: I HAD a Christmas story planned, but due to family matters, I was simply unable to finish it on time. Oh well... see it next time! So here's something I was going to put up afterward, and it fits the holiday season, in a way. I love writing fight scenes and if you like reading them, then this is the story for you! So here's my gift to Cloud: He finally gets the opportunity to accomplish the one thing he always felt he failed at. This is also a gift to all the readers that requested I write some more angsty stuff, and I hope I didn't disappoint. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Joyful Jubilation of the Winter Solstice, etc! Please feel free to comment, and enjoy!)  
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**Recriminations**

Cloud had just started counting the money from his last mercenary job in Junon when his phone rang. The customer grinned as the stoic, impressive-looking hero frantically tried to answer the phone when the chocobo song started belting out at top volume from his pocket. Marlene had changed his ringtone to the chocobo song whenever Tifa called and he hadn't yet figured out how to change it to something more... subtle. _Someone_ had hidden the user's manual for his new phone and he had a very good inkling of who it was.

Whoever invented zippered pockets was a sadist.

"Hello?" The client gave him the receipt and Cloud accepted it, walking back to his bike.

"Hey, Cloud, everything okay?"

"Yeah, just finished up."

"Alright. Just so you know, I've closed the bar for the day. My supplier at Kalm says they have a new vintage and I'm driving out to see what they have."

"Okay. Take some materia with you."

A light laugh on the other end made his heart lurch, and he suddenly felt very homesick. Two days away from home, spent clearing out the monsters from the polluted port below the city, suddenly felt like a lifetime if it meant being away from Tifa. "Cloud, I think I can drive to Kalm without needing any materia."

"Even so," he said, stubborn.

Another laugh and he felt himself smiling, for a moment forgetting all of the scrapes, bruises and overall weariness that came from using materia all day long. "Well that's going to be hard, Cloud, since you took all the materia with you on your job," she teased.

Automatically, he glanced down at his arm. Sure enough, rows of materia glowed there. Crap. He'd forgotten about that.

"Don't worry, Cloud, I'll be fine. I've got my gloves. And speaking of materia, Yuffie is meeting me at Kalm to show me something new she's cooked up. You'll be home tonight?"

"Yeah, I'm leaving right now. Should be there by nightfall."

"Alright then, I'll be waiting for you. Love you!"

"...Bye." He hung up.

Their relationship had come a long way, since the curing of Geostigma. A great deal had happened but he still couldn't say, "I love you, too," over the phone without feeling awkward. It felt so... cheesy to him. He was better at expressing things without words and he thanked the stars every day for having a woman in his life that not only understood and accepted that about him, but loved him for it. Every time she called, he told himself that this time, he'd say it back to her.

Every time, he always gave a half-hearted goodbye. Tifa didn't seem to mind at least, since when he got back home he could express his love for her in other ways - flowers, kissing and cuddling were among her favorite methods - but even so, he felt like he should say it. But it was frustratingly hard to summon the courage to do as much with that client grinning at him knowingly from the doorway.

Cloud sighed and glanced up at the sky. It was still mid-morning. He wasn't getting any closer to home - and Tifa - by just sitting there. He really ought to go back to the inn, grab a few more hours of rest, but the tantalizing thought of being reunited with Tifa outweighed that option.

Bending low against his bike, the engine roared to life beneath him and he started his journey along the long and winding coastal road back to Edge.

**xXxXx**

It was turning out to be a good day indeed - Cloud had gotten home just as the sun slipped behind the horizon, neatly beating an incoming storm. The bar was dark and silent, but he wasn't too surprised. Tifa never went over the speed limit, unlike him, who considered speed limits to be more of a... _suggestion_ than an actual 'limit.' Tifa lectured him about this bad habit relentlessly, but he always stayed quiet when she did and just looked at her.

He'd discovered that just looking at her would send her into distraction if done right and it was a tactic he'd used more than once to get himself out of a tight spot with her. He wasn't really sure why it worked, only that it did.

Cloud wandered into the kitchen and found a can of soup. Tomato. Huzzah.

Of course, Tifa used the same tactic on him when he tried to force her to carry a materia at all times or to be more careful... it was just the way her eyes scattered his thoughts and made him forget what he was talking about...

He slurped down his soup in the dark bar. The kids were with Barret - the black man had asked Denzel if he wanted to stay with him and Marlene for a little while over the summer and the boy had been more than happy to accept. It'd been somewhat of a relief to see both the kids vanish for at least a month - it was hard to get any time alone with kids around, and he and Tifa had exploited the newfound privacy created in their absence. Vigorously.

But the bar was so quiet without their laughter.

He washed out the bowl and put it away, knowing Tifa would never go to bed if there was even the tiniest of messes to be cleaned up. Tifa wasn't the type of person that did spot-cleaning. If there was one thing to clean up, she'd clean it, but then she'd start cleaning up the area around it too, even if it didn't need it. One time, he came home late at night to find her single-mindedly waxing and polishing the floor. At the time, she had insisted it was only because the floor was long overdue for such treatment, but he knew her almost obsessive cleaning was a way to vent tension and anxiety. Some people escaped stress in comfort, like reading a book or a hot bath - she just let herself get lost in the rhythm of work.

When he had Geostigma, the bar had practically glistened, it was so polished and clean. He never realized how much she'd worried about him until he came back, and eventually forced her to stop the manic cleaning.

Cloud dragged himself upstairs and collapsed on the bed, utterly exhausted from the long drive even though it was fairly early to go to sleep. Ah, it felt so good. Sure, the matresses at hotels were comfortable enough, but there was nothing that can quite compare to flinging yourself in your own bed.

Even though every bone ached with weariness, sleep didn't come immediately. It was always annoying when he couldn't fall asleep right when he really wanted to and it'd become something of a game to try and guess exactly what it was that kept him up.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly the most inspired 'game' out there, but it sure as hell beat counting sheep. More to the point, it exercised those wonderful 'problem-solving' skills that Cid always ranted about ever since he'd bought that stupid book.

Cloud edged a hand under his pillow and his fingertips brushed the binding of his own copy of _How To Negotiate With Everyday Problems._ He never told Cid he'd bought a copy - if the pilot ever found out, the taunting would be _unceasing._ Cid didn't need any more fodder on him, especially not after the swimsuit malfunction.

Oh sweet summons, don't think about that! Anything but that! Quick - reasons for not sleeping! Go!

Okay, well, first reason, he was still a little hungry after that thin soup. Another can of creamy tomato deliciousness had tempted him with its alluring label and it took all his willpower to turn away. No matter how many cans of soup he made, it would never be as filling as Tifa's wonderous food. For a moment, the pan someone had left on the stove had tempted him but this time it was wisdom that had turned him away.

Okay, let's be clear - he'd never been one for cooking, right? It'd never really been a needed skill in his life. His mother always cooked when he was young. When he left home, there was the mess hall to go to when he signed up for the SOLDIER program. Even cannon-fodder grunts were fed well, he had to give Shinra that much credit.

Afterward... he always got by. There was always enough gil in his pocket to get a meal here or there and if he missed a meal every now and then, it didn't kill him. And after that, Tifa was always there, whipping up incredible meals that were sinfully delicious with ease, like it was second-nature to her. She didn't even have to _measure_ when she cooked. She just grabbed things and dumped them in pots and pans and BAM - a meal worthy of kings was on a plate in front of him, not a single ingrediant having touched the interior of a measuring utensil. That, of all things, left him most in awe. He had to painstakingly measure out _everything_ just to make mac 'n cheese, and even then success wasn't guaranteed.

Who knew cheese could burn in like, twenty minutes, anyway?

Tifa had been less than pleased by the scorched pan - the only salvageable part of his first cooking endeavor. His next attempt had been rice and, well... to this day, he was convinced that rice cooker had been cursed or something. Cooking equipment simply doesn't _explode_ like that without some kind of demonic forces at work.

Cloud glanced at the bedside clock - just hitting seven thirty. The sun had just begun to touch the horizon, casting the world into the first shadows of twilight. He rolled over on his side, still unable to sleep. Time to think of a second reason.

The kids weren't here. After a long routine forged over months of wrestling and cajoling and threatening them into bed, it felt like a great chasm suddenly yawned in his life when they had left. It left him with a feeling he'd become very familiar with, a nagging little tug at the back of the mind that always meant, _"Strife, you are forgetting something important."_

The worst part was, whenever that feeling inexplicably struck him, he could _never_ figure out what the heck he was forgetting! Talk about frustrating - he'd never live down that one time when he'd almost been home and had to turn around because he forgot to get the receipt from a customer. The memory jokes Tifa and the kids had made were inexhaustible. Those jokes still cropped up from time to time.

Alright, so even he had to admit that sometime he was absentminded... but did the kids _really_ have to draw cartoons of him about it? Buggers.

It was only at times like these when he realized how much he missed their teasing. The day seemed empty without hearing at least one lame joke at his expense.

Crap... better not let the kids find out about that.

Seven forty-five. Time for reason three.

Tifa.

No real need to elaborate on that, right? They'd started sharing a room a little while ago and it didn't feel right to fall asleep without her comforting warmth beside him. She had this way of snuggling up to him that made him entirely forget about any worries or concerns still plaguing him. With her lavender-jasmine scent washing over him, nothing else really mattered.

The nightmares always came back when Tifa wasn't with him and he always fought sleep when she was gone. Sometimes this left him hollow-eyed and sluggish, especially if he'd been gone on deliveries for a few days, but sleeping next to her always more than made up for it. Now that he thought about it, maybe he slept better with her because - with her at his side - he knew the nightmares were empty threats and shallow lies. They held no power over him in the dark when his angel was sleeping in his arms.

Not to mention that Tifa was _much_ cuddlier than this stupid pillow that felt like it'd gone through twelve kinds of hell. It was lumpier than materia thief's backpack. And he should know how that felt - Yuffie had walloped him upside the head a few times with her backpack before she'd realized it was him. (Now that's a _fun_ story.) Why were all these pillows so crappy?

Oh that's right... they'd moved into Tifa's room and all the good pillows had incontinently migrated over there. He'd be over there right now, but it felt awkward sleeping in her... er, _their_ room without her there. He was still adjusting to the idea of 'their room'. He still couldn't quite believe his luck that an amazing, beautiful, incredible woman like Tifa would want to share a room, a _bed,_ with a crazy, messed-up freak like him.

Gods, he hoped Tifa would come home soon. Thinking about her made him miss her even more...

Usually, the third can't-sleep-reason would put him to sleep, and this time was no different.

**xXxXx**

_"FASTER!"_

_It's raining. And on rainy days, they always have to do that damn obstacle course. Drill sergeants never love their trainees more than when they watch them crawling through mud._

_Cloud, just turned fifteen, is crawling under rows of barbed wire. The mud squelches over his elbows and even covers his face as he ducks he head low to avoid the wire._

_"MOVE, MOVE!"_

_Free of the wire, he sprang to his feet and followed some others up a rope net. The net was one of the worst parts - it twisted away from a grasping hand, slips out from under a precariously balanced foot. He's done this several times now, and wrestles up the cursed net with fair amount of ease._

_Drop over the wall, roll to his feet and on to the next obstacle. Another net, this time held parallel a foot off the ground by short wooden posts. Some other trainees are already halfway across it, picking up their feet quickly and stepping down in the holes of the net. Cloud balks - this one always gets him._

_A rough hand shoves him from behind. "MOVE!"_

_Not wanting to risk another punishment - his muscles still ached from all those pushups - he started to go through it. Up, down, up, down, always move forward. There's a rhythm to it, really, once you get the han-_

_His foot catches on the net, like it always does, and he goes face first into it. Just like always, the damn thing twists around his leg and he flails helplessly. He's the only one to get stuck like this and he can't figure out what he keeps doing wrong._

_A strong hand grabs him by the back of his uniform and extracts him from the net. He can't even see which instructor it is - the mud and rain obscure his vision entirely. All he can hear is the sergeant's bitter words._

"Dammit, Strife, you can't do anything right!"

_The rain vanishes and this time it's his first real training mission. First exercise with live ammo, locked up in a few square miles of forest with just a handful of monsters set loose inside. He's carefully stalking through the woods, just like he'd been trained, watching his partner's back, who watches his in turn._

_They walk like this for hours, on edge, waiting for the slightest indication of danger. When it finally comes, they'd relaxed too much, were easy prey - a giant wolf bounds out of the shadows and knocks his partner aside. Cloud freezes, all that training gone in an instant, finger slack on the trigger._

_"FIRE, DAMN YOU!"_

_The wolf lowers its head close to the ground and starts to circle him. He can only stare at the baleful eyes, paralyzed._

_"SHOOT!"_

_A snap of jaws, a blur of movement, and the gun is snatched from his hands. He stumbles backwards, trips on something and scrambles away as best he can, still facing the advancing monster. The wolf's muscles bunch as it readies itself to leap on this easy prey._

_A sudden chatter of gunfire brings the wolf down and it falls to the ground, screaming. It's a terrible, ear-splitting sound._

_Another instructor, his features blurred by time, strides into view and hauls Cloud to his feet by the front of his uniform. The disgust in his eyes poisons his voice._

"You're worthless..."

**xXxXx**

A rumble of distant thunder played dissonant counterpart to the phone ringing as he sat up, still trying to shake off the unpleasant echoes of the dream. The red glare of the clock informed him the dream had only lasted twenty minutes as he felt around for the phone. After some more groping around, he finally found it and cut off its nerve-grating screech.

"Hello?"

"Cloud, lemme talk to Tifa."

"Yuffie?"

"Who else? Tifa left a notebook behind, it looks like some kinda ordering thingamajig, like whatchyacallit. A catalog? Log book? Anyway, she left it here and that creepy old wine dude gave it to me. It looks kinda important so ask her if she needs me to drop it off or something."

Cloud sat up, rubbing the vestiges of sleep from his eyes. A swift glance at his open door revealed to him that no one else was home. Tifa hated a dark house - she always left at least one light on in the bar. "She isn't here."

This was met with a long pause.

"Then where the hell can she be? She only left, like, hours ago and I can't get her on that stupid phone you got her."

"What?"

"Yeah, the drive there can't be _that_ long, can it? I mean-"

"Tifa left hours ago?"

"Isn't that what I _just_ said?"

Something wasn't right. "I thought she was still at Kalm. I've been waiting for-"

Oppressive silence fell as he stopped in mid-sentence and realization spiked through his sleepy haze. For a terrible moment, he couldn't breathe as his heart constricted painfully.

"Oh shit," Yuffie said softly. "I'm on my way!" Then she hung up.

Cloud had already tossed the phone aside before she'd ended the call, snatching up his sword as he ran out of the room. Dammit, dammit, dammit! He'd been screwing around at home while Tifa had been missing, lost somewhere in the savage wastes between Kalm and Edge.

The sound of Fenrir roaring to life was drowned out by another boom of thunder. Cloud raced down the city streets, his heart going faster than the dangerous speeds he pressed the bike for.

Tifa was a strong fighter, she could take care of herself easily, as she'd tartly reminded him a few times. But even the best warrior can wear out and wind down, especially without any materia for healing and wide-area attacks. No one could last indefinitely on their own without any reprieve - he knew that better than most.

He cursed himself as he sped out of Edge and into the wild, cursed himself for always being late, for always failing the ones that depended on him the most. Just once, just once in his stupid life, couldn't he protect the ones he loved most? Dammit, he was so-

_You're worthless..._

The words from the memory-come-dream suddenly echoed back to him and he gritted his teeth. He was always screwing up, always failing those closest to him. First it was Zack -

_Cloud, run!_

He'd just sat there as his best and only friend had been cut down by the Shinra army. He couldn't do anything, just lay there like a pathetic little puppet with all its strings cut.

_You're worthless..._

Then Aerith had been next, relying on him to protect her...

_I'll come back when it's all over..._

She would never come back and he had watched her die. He'd stood there as _he_ came down and impaled her. She'd died just a few feet away from him, her protector, and he did nothing. Nothing!

_Dammit, Strife, you can't do anything right!_

Then for a heart-stopping moment, when he found Tifa collapsed in the church, he'd felt like he'd finally failed the one last person he cared about, who relied on him in vain. The one person he couldn't bear to live without, the one he'd promised to protect.

_You're late..._

Please, just this once, let him keep his promise for once in his life! He didn't even know who or what he was praying to, only knowing he couldn't stop the mental chant. _Please, let me get there in time! Let me save her!_

It was happening all over again. The person most important to him needed help, was relying on him to save her, and once again he would be too late. Twice he'd been too late to help Tifa - once in the reactor with Sephiroth, again in the church with the Remnant. Third time's the charm, isn't that how the saying goes?

No! He'd get there in time, he'd protect her just as he'd promised. He had to.

Unbidden, unwelcome, memories of all his past failures came crashing down on him as he rode through the lightning-streaked wilderness, a phantasmagoria of mocking voices and reminders of how often he'd failed, he'd always failed.

_Cloud, run!_

_I'll come back-_

_Worthless-_

_Can't do anything right!_

_-All over..._

_You're late._

_We're friends, right Cloud - Run!_

_Get me out of here. Take me home._

_Worthless..._

_You're late._

_Miserable failure..._

_I'll come back when it's all over._

_Dammit Strife, you can't do anything right!_

The guilty stream of self-recriminations cut off as an enormous monster struck him, flinging its body at the speeding bike and rider. Fenrir went spinning out of control and Cloud quickly let go of it, let himself roll across the concrete. Sparks from Fenrir showered him as it skidded across the road.

With a powerful twist of his body, he managed to turn the inertia from the fall to his advantage and sprang to his feet, sword already in hand. He ignored the bloody scrapes on his arm.

The monster that faced him might have been a wolf or some other predatory animal, but now all it resembled was a half-finished tadpole with claws and teeth. Too many teeth. The back legs had melted together by some perverted twist of nature and it half-slithered, half-dragged itself along the ground.

It snarled and leapt for him again.

He didn't have time for this.

Cloud held his free hand out toward the monster, palm out as if to stop it. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

A high-pitched keening and a slight welling of an ominious green light around his palm was the only warning. A blast of devastating green power burst from his palm. The roar of destruction was deafening as the Ultima spell tore apart the road and the luckless monster. The creature didn't even have time for a death gurgle as the spell disintegrated it in the blink of an eye.

Cloud staggered slightly as the spell took its toll on him. Sheathing his sword, he went over to Fenrir - looking none the worse for wear, if only a little scratched - and started it.

Or tried to, at least. The engine coughed a few times and died. It stayed silent after that, in spite of all his attempts to coax it back to life. The monster must've knocked something loose inside with that body slam.

Cursing, he dropped the bike and started running. It'd been hours since Tifa had left the safety of Kalm - minutes could make all the difference now.

In short order, he fell back into the fast, easy stride that Shinra training had ingrained in him so long ago. For the first time in years, he could be thankful to that company for giving him the endurance and strength to maintain such a grueling pace for so long.

_Hang on, Tifa. I'm coming. Just hang on a little longer._

Rounding a corner, his heart almost stopped.

_Miserable failure..._

Tifa's car sat on the side of the road.

It'd looked like it had gone through a meat grinder. The steel roof of the car had been rolled back with ease, as though something with enormous claws had been opening a can of sardines. Blood was everywhere.

"TIFA!" He didn't even recognize his voice as his own. Suddenly he was searching the small vehicle frantically, not even aware of crossing the distance to it from where he'd stood scant seconds ago.

The seats had been torn apart. Loose chunks of foam rolled across the ground as the wind picked up strength, heralding the storm that loomed above. There was nothing, just torn bits of car and broken wine bottles. Not a sign of Tifa anywhere, no clue as to where she'd gone or what had happened.

Metal squealed in protest as his left hand clamped on the door frame of the broken car. The fingernails of his other hand dug into his chest as he tried to stop the agonizing pain there.

He was too late. Tifa was...

_You're worthless._

His teeth gritted together so hard his jaw ached and his eyes closed against the pain only his soul could feel. In the silence of his mind, he plead with whatever powers that be.

No, no, no! Not Tifa. Not her, anything but her! Take him instead, kill him a thousand times over in a thousand different ways, just _don't take Tifa!_ He couldn't live without her, she was everything to him, the only thing that mattered! He'd endure anything, any pain, any loss, but that one.

Not her.

Not Tifa.

Please.

The sounds of a distant battle snapped his eyes open and he spun toward the sound. Somewhere, a lot of animals were fighting...

Or dying.

Hope flared and he raced toward the sound, off the road and into the barren rocky maze. As he passed an enormous pile of rocks, wild joy flooded through him.

Tifa was alive.

Countless shadowy wolf-like creatures, their numbers ever growing, had her cornered on a small butte a few stories tall. They clawed their way up the sides to where Tifa stood on the flat top. Any of them that came to close were met with a lashing foot or punishing fist, knocking them down. More than a few of the monsters fell, lifeless, their skulls kicked in or crushed. He was too far away to see if she was injured or not, but he could tell she was tired by her sluggish movements. She limped a little on one leg, but other than that, she appeared to be fine.

For the first time in his life, Cloud Strife had arrived just in time.

Cloud began to jog toward the distant battle, gradually picking up speed as waves of red energy sinuously wove around his arm. The fell red glow cast an ominous light on him, compounding the dangerous look in his eyes. Some of the shadow-wolves that saw him approaching from afar backed away nervously.

He flicked his hand toward the sky and for an instant, strange symbols appeared in the air.

A new thunder echoed in the skies. The storm clouds above dipped low, spinning together like a wool being drawn onto a spinning wheel. In a few seconds, the clouds wove into a new and deadly form.

A silver dragon roared as it swooped low, leathery wings slicing through the air with deadly grace. Instead of attacking the shadowy wolves, it dove towards Cloud, obeying his silent command. As Bahamut swept near, one enormous leathery wing passing over him, Cloud jumped.

The warrior soared through the air and grabbed hold on one of the jagged spikes that lined the dragon's spine. He braced his feet on Bahamut's back as it propelled itself forward with one stroke of its mighty wings. Bahamut roared a challenge to the massive pack of monsters as Cloud drew his sword with his free hand.

Just as they neared the butte, Bahamut banked hard, tilting its back toward the rocky hill. Cloud leapt off and landed next to Tifa, neatly cutting two shadow-wolves in half with one swing of his sword as he did. Then he grabbed Tifa and held her against him, her back to his chest, sword at the ready.

The beasts were attacking in earnest now, driven into a frenzy by the scent of blood, worked to a panic by the new adversaries. They clawed up the steep sides of the small butte, eyes rolling with madness, jaws foaming. Even with Bahamut sweeping back and forth, taking out several with each pass, the odds were overwhelming.

But Cloud wasn't worried. He'd entered that cool, calm lagoon of distant emotion where thought was far away and only razor-sharp awareness and flawless reaction existed. There was no fear, there were no doubts. With Tifa pinned against him, only one obstacle stood between her and the horde of monsters.

Him.

Three wolves jumped high in the air, claws extended to tear into flesh. One slash and they dropped, twitching. He spun, slashed down two more, side-stepped and lopped the head off another. Lightning crackled down the length of his sword as he flicked the tip at four more wolves just scrabbling over the edge. A sharp _crack!_ split the air and lightning struck all four, knocking them off. Cloud ducked, and gutted a wolf's soft underbelly as it sailed over his head, its attack from behind gone woefully awry.

The battle became a blur. The rock became slick with blood as Cloud cut down anything that came too close. Fire bloomed, ice made the sides too slippery to for the beasts to climb, and lighting crackled regularly. The earth trembled mightly as Quake shook the very bones of the earth, crushing a dozen of the shadowy wolves beneath immense boulders.

Another wave of the creatures swarmed up the one side of the butte not yet covered with magical ice. Cloud waited for them to come, patient. As the first canine-like head appeared over the edge, he held his hand out toward the oncoming horde, palm out, just as he had done on the road earlier.

Once again, a high-pitched keening and the slight glow around his palm gave a split-second warning. Then the blast of green devastation tore into the wolves, grinding them into nothing. Rock dust flew into the air and when it had settled, it revealed half of the flat top of the butte had vanished.

With the horde pushed back, at least for the time being, Cloud finally relinquished Tifa, lowering her to the rock with infinite gentleness, then sheathed his sword. Behind him, Bahamut came around for another pass - a blue flash and explosion announced yet another Megaflare had been loosed.

"Are you hurt?" he asked gently.

"My ankle." Tifa put a hand on her left calf, unwilling to touch the wounded joint.

He nodded and pulled her close with one arm comfortingly. She buried her face in his shirt as he gently touched her ankle with his fingertips. A warm, sparkling green glow spread from his hand to cover her leg. The glow expanded for a moment, then rapidly started to dissipate, absorbing into her skin. When the glow finally vanished, Tifa pulled away and smiled at him wearily. She started to stand - then let out a surprised squeak as Cloud scooped her up in his arms.

"Hang on," he said softly. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her head close to his chest.

Cloud walked to the edge of the butte. The shadow wolves had once again started swarming up the sides, even clawing away the slick coating of ice. This was their final rush, en masse, going all out for the kill. Bahamut circled the hill, emitting a low, ominious grumble - it couldn't attack without killing its summoner.

Taking a deep breath, Cloud walked to the far end of the butte then turned around and crouched, gathering his strength. He stayed that way for several long seconds. Tifa's hands tightened on him as the shrieks of the monsters grew to an ear-splitting pitch.

He waited.

Bahamut roared in frustration, unable to do anything to stop the inevitable slaughter of its master. The wolves were feet from the top where Cloud still stood, waiting.

A giant, clawed foot appeared over the steep edge, right between his feet.

Cloud took three running steps then jumped.

The massive leap sent the two soaring through the air, putting a great deal of distance between them and the monster-shrouded hill. Cloud gracefully landed hundreds of feet away, legs bent so as not to jar Tifa. Wordlessly, he straightened up and started calmly walking away.

Behind him, the hill, the monsters and some of the surrounding landscape vanished in a blue-violet explosion as Bahamut unleashed a massive Megaflare. The blast wave ruffled his hair and tiny flecks of rock sprinkled his back, but he never glanced back.

Bahamut vanished into the sky with another rumble of thunder. The wasteland rang with eerie silence in the aftermath of the battle. Not one monster had made it out alive. The only sound was the lonesome wind and the crunch of dirt under Cloud's boots. Even that sound vanished when he reached the road.

They passed the shredded car - this time he saw it wasn't blood, but wine that covered it - and he remembered the guilt, the heart-stricken panic that had nearly overwhelmed him.

_Dammit, Strife, you can't do anything ri-_

He cut the memory off and shoved it aside, never to be remembered.

No.

Never again.

That guilt, that self-hatred, had no place in his life. Not anymore.

After a few minutes of walking, Tifa shifted in his arms.

"Cloud, I think I can walk now."

He nodded once. "Yeah." He didn't stop walking.

A long pause. "Cloud?"

"Hmm?"

Though weary, a little laughter rang in her voice. "You can't carry me all the way home."

"I can." They passed Fenrir, scratched to hell, dead as a doornail. "I am."

The tone in his voice told her there would be no persuading him from his chosen course of action. He was carrying her home and that was final. Smiling, Tifa nestled her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. "Thank you."

It had just started to lightly rain when he carried her into Seventh Heaven.


End file.
